


'Wooing David Archuleta' or, How Cook Got Turned Down

by carolion



Series: High School AU [1]
Category: American Idol RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, First Love, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-08-23
Updated: 2011-08-23
Packaged: 2017-10-22 23:46:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,851
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/243909
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/carolion/pseuds/carolion
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>High school AU: Cook gets turned down by Archie a whole bunch.</p>
            </blockquote>





	'Wooing David Archuleta' or, How Cook Got Turned Down

The first time Cook had asked David Archuleta out on a date, he’d been (gently) turned down.

It happened like this: Michael Johns had shoved him one day in their Spanish class and said, “Either ask him out or stop drooling all over my test papers. That is _disgusting_.” He had shoved Mike back automatically and snapped something about Mike’s face being disgusting, but he didn’t stop staring at David Archuleta.

It was Cook’s last year in high school; he was finally a senior and _so_ ready to be done, but Archuleta was a freshman, this boy who had randomly showed up in their Advanced Spanish class about a month into the school year. He had stammered and blushed through the introduction (especially when Senora Suarez had gushed about how he was practically fluent in Spanish and therefore had to be pushed ahead to the Advanced group - his face had been bright red and he had stared resolutely at the floor which Cook had, despite himself, found adorable) and he had these pretty hazel eyes and soft, pink lips and Cook had looked for too long, only breaking his gaze when Luke elbowed him.

It had only gotten worse when Cook had engaged Archuleta (“Okay you’re gonna be Archie, alright? Because there are too many Davids here already,” Mike had said, jerking a thumb at Hernandez who was cracking gum in the back row, and pointing a finger at Cook, who was, uh, staring, “and your last name makes my mouth tired” and Archuleta had blinked and said “Uh, okay?”) in a little conversation, and found out that he said things like ‘Oh, gosh!’ and ‘Um’ and ‘I don’t know!’ in this earnest voice, and that he hummed when he was writing essays, and he never raised his hand to give the answers, even though Cook could see it was written correctly on his paper. From there, it became an infatuation, and Cook felt sort of creepy and guilty for liking this, this _kid_ so much, but it wasn’t just how brilliantly Archie smiled, or how when he bit his bottom lip Cook had to avert his eyes, it was about how funny Archie was without even knowing it, and how when he got excited his hands would fly into the air and gesture wildly. He was kind of all sorts of awesome, and Cook wanted nothing more than to spend more time with him.

But, you see, they weren’t really friends. At least, not outside of Spanish class. Archuleta hung out with the other freshmen, and Cook hung out with _his_ friends, and their paths never really crossed except for that one class, a mere hour a day, five days a week, and that was it. Cook didn’t even say ‘Hey Arch,’ in the hallways, because he was (“too much of a pansy,” Neal said around a mouthful of food) afraid of interrupting Archie when he was with his friends or whatever, and it wasn’t a big deal anyway.

He hadn’t realized _how bad_ it had actually gotten, until Mike suggested, you know, actually asking Archie out on a date, and now he couldn’t think of anything else, wondering what the younger boy would say, and what if he said no, and what if he said _yes_ , and would they be boyfriends or was that too much or-?

When he’d finally screwed up the courage to ask him out, they’d been partners in Spanish class for about four months, and winter break was fast approaching. Cook figured that if Archie said no, he could at least lay low at home for two weeks to lick his wounds, and return to school as if nothing had ever happened. He just hadn’t expected it go like this.

“Hey, wait up!” Cook chased after Archie after school, because no way was he doing this during class. Archie looked bewildered, but he paused, waiting patiently for Cook to catch up.

“Cook?” He asked, a little concerned. “Did I, um, did I forget something?”

Cook shook his head and shrugged his shoulders at the same time, ducking his head because he wasn’t sure he could look at Archie while he did this.

“I just wanted to ask you something,” he said, and paused. “You know how awesome I think you are, right?” And he was teasing, just a little, because Archuleta had this amazing habit of turning bright pink and stammering every time Cook complimented him, all the while saying ‘Oh! No, gosh, I’m not!’ as Cook laughed at him.

He could feel the boy shift next to him, a little curiously. “Um, I guess so? I don’t really-”

Cook looked up - mistake. Archie’s dark lashes made his eyes seem even greener than usual, and his mouth was pursed in a confused bow, and Cook was lost, he was so totally gone for this guy, it was ridiculous. His mouth went dry and he had to lick his lips (and he saw how Archie’s eyes followed the movement, before flickering away, embarrassed) before speaking again.

“Listen, uh, I was wondering. Did you, maybe, want to go out with me some time?” Archie’s mouth widened a little shock, and Cook inwardly winced.

“Like- Like a _date_?” Archie asked, his voice pitched high and wavering.

“Um,” but Cook couldn’t lie to him, so he nodded sheepishly, “yeah? Like a date.” He rubbed the back of his neck and tried to prepare himself for what he knew was going to happen next.

Archie’s face went soft and sad and it _hurt_ to look at, but Cook couldn’t stop staring, already understanding. “Oh,” the boy said, and then reached out and touched Cook’s arm, his fingers curling into the fabric. “I didn’t - I’m not -” he stammered, and then closed his eyes and refocused. “I’m not, um, I don’t want to date anyone right now. It’s not really, I mean, you’re _awesome_ , and so cool, and I don’t know why you want to ask me out, when like, _anyone_ would say yes to you, seriously, but I just, I can’t Cook. I’m really sorry.”

Cook had nodded and shoved his hands into his pockets, resolutely not looking at the other boy. “Yeah. Okay. I understand. Um, we’re still cool, right?”

He glanced up in time to see Archie nodding vigorously. “Oh my gosh, of course! I would be so sad if you stopped talking to me or something!” Cook chuckled, a little, and then backed away.

“See you around Archie,” he called out, and walked away, defeated.

 

The second time Cook had asked David Archuleta on a date, he was firmly rejected.

The two weeks off, not seeing Archie and writing music and thinking about, well, _everything_ , hadn’t really forced Cook to get over his crush. The more he thought about it, the more he decided that Archie was doing this out of some sort of self-depreciating act of nobility, or a defense mechanism, afraid of getting hurt. Cook realized how it must have seemed - an upperclassman who only spoke to him in class, ignoring him the rest of the school days, never calling or hanging out outside of school, and suddenly he wanted a date from Archie? Yeah, it looked suspicious, even to Cook, who obviously knew what his real intentions were (and they were pure) (well semi-pure).

The first day back to school, Cook made a point to grin and wave at Archie in the hallway, which made Archie stare at him in surprise, and almost trip over someone who was kneeling to fix their shoelace.

“Oh my gosh I’m so sorry!” Cook heard him say, clearly flustered, and Cook went to his next class whistling a happy tune.

That day in Spanish he badgered Archie about his winter break (and Archie looked really confused and timid, like he expected Cook to ignore him from now on, even though he’d said they’d still be friends, and it was a little exasperating, but also fucking cute, so Cook forgave him for his doubt) and found out that Archuleta had actually turned fifteen on the twenty eighth of December.

“Happy birthday!” He crowed, and Archie blushed, and Cook slung an arm around his shoulders for the rest of the period.

The next day at lunch he brought Archie a cupcake with fifteen candles crammed into the top, all lit and melting onto the frosting.

“Oh my gosh, _Cook!_ ” Archie had squeaked, and buried his face in his hands. “That is like, so totally a fire hazard!” The freshmen (who Cook had so bravely swatted away, parting them like the Red Sea to get to Archie) all giggled and ducked their heads, mumbling things to each other, making Archie blush even _more_.

Cook laughed. “So blow ‘em out already, before you get me into trouble!” He teased, lifting the cupcake (and it’s fiery inferno of birthday wishes) higher so Archie could lean over and blow them out.

Except that plan kind of backfired when Archie _did_ lean over, and pursed his lips into a soft little ‘o’, cheeks puffed out from air, and looked down at the candles, which cast really pretty shadows on his cheeks, and made his eyelashes look all dark and romantic, and Cook had to swallow hard and pinch his thigh as his friend blew out all fifteen candles.

He took the time now to try and invite Archie and a couple of his friends to eat at lunch with he and Michael and Carly and everyone else as often as possible. Carly totally fell in love with him, and squealed about how cute he was as soon as Archie was out of earshot.

“Christ Carly, calm down,” Michael grumbled, his brow furrowed a little, “he’s not _that_ cute.” Cook snickered; Mike’s crush on Carly was kind of legendary to everyone _except_ Carly - it was pretty pathetic (almost as pathetic as his thing for Archie). “And besides,” Mike continued, “you’re going to have to arm wrestle Cook for him, and nobody wants to see Cook cry. Again.” Cook punched him.

It went surprisingly well, the whole integration process, wherein Cook forced his friends to be nice to Archie and Archie tried not to stammer so much or say “Gosh, really?” whenever Michael told him one of his ridiculous (and completely made up) stories. Cook was fairly confidant they were in the friend territory which is usually a bad place to be when trying to date someone, but maybe not when that someone is David Archuleta.

It was towards the end of January that Cook decided to try again, hoping that, by now, Archie knew he wasn’t just some dickwad senior trying to take advantage of, or worse, _trick_ , the innocent little freshman with the big eyes and bigger heart. Because he’s not, he’s not that guy, and he never will be that guy. And - it’s _Archie_. Archie wasn’t some random guy, or a hook-up, or even a fuck-buddy. He was like, special. It was weird, and kind of embarrassing to think about, but Cook wasn’t afraid to admit it. That Archie was _different_ from everyone else, especially to Cook.

They were by themselves in the music room, with Archie splayed out on his back, his head balanced on one of Cook’s knees, from where he was seated in the butterfly position with his back up against the wall. They could hear the school band practicing on the stage which was directly behind and above them, separated by a couple thick curtains and a sound board or two. The music was muted and flat sounding, but it was still pleasant and Cook could even forgive the flat note or two because of the way Archie was smiling, his eyes closed, his hands folded neatly across his stomach. Cook stared down at him, a weird, fluttery sensation in his chest (until he realized that was his heart beating, Jesus Christ) and carefully carded a hand through the boy’s dark hair. Archie made a soft, happy sound in the back of his throat but didn’t open his eyes or move from his position, so Cook kept stroking his hair, emboldened.

“Hey Arch,” he began, pausing a little. “I was thinking... We’re friends, right?”

Archie blinked blearily up at him - looked like he was having a little catnap. “Um, yeah?” The boy smiled, shyly. “You’re my friend, at least.” Cook smiled down at him.

“You’re my friend too. But, uh,” he hesitated, “I’d really like to be more. More than friends, I mean.”

Archie stared at him, uncomprehendingly for a long moment. Then his lips pursed dangerously and he sat up, his back to Cook. “Are you asking me out?”

Cook fidgeted with his hands. “Yeah, I am.” Jeez, when would this get easier? He was still as nervous as possible, and dreading the answer.

Archie turned back to him, his face a dark storm cloud. It was as upset and angry as Cook had ever seen it, and he felt momentarily taken aback by the rush of emotion he saw in Archie’s eyes. “No. _No_. I will not go out with you. Cook!” He sounded weird and upset and betrayed, like Cook had, had stabbed in the back or something.

“But, I mean, I thought -” Cook struggled, feeling panicky - he _hated_ seeing Archie’s face like that, all sad and mad and conflicted, “you said you couldn’t date anyone _then_ , and this is _now_ , totally different, and you called me _awesome_ , and I thought, maybe, you needed time.” Cook felt like a jerk, especially when Archie recoiled from him.

“I think deciding when I’m ready to date is up to _me_ , Cook,” he said icily, and then scrambled up from the ground. “Can you just, just leave me alone for a while, okay?”

Cook hurried up after him, the panic now full blown. “No, wait, Archie I’m _sorry_ please don’t-!” he didn’t get to finish though; Archie cut him off.

“Just - just for now, okay?” The boy smiled weakly, half-heartedly, “I’m not - we’re still friends, okay? I just need a little space.”

And that’s how Cook was turned down by Archie for the second time in as many months.

 

The third time Cook asked David Archuleta on a date, he was playfully misdirected.

Cook made himself stay away from Archie for about a week, which _sucked_ , not to mention his Spanish grades took a nose dive, _fuck_. He was miserable, staring at Archie from across the room, or across the hall, or across the campus. (“Jesus Christ, who ran over your dog?” Michael Johns asked him the first day, as Cook moped through his classes and refused to participate in any patented ‘MJ’s Fun and Games!’ Then: “You asked Archuleta out again, didn’t you? Poor bastard. Never gets easier.” And Cook kind of wanted to deck him, because this was all Mike’s fault in the first place, but he was way too busy being lonely and mooning over the fifteen year old in the mess hall.) And actually, it wasn’t even a full week. It was just for the rest of January, which was like, half a week, but even that was too much, because it included the weekend, which was also miserable. Shit, he was so so screwed.

Still, when he tentatively approached Archie that following Monday, he was greeted with a bright grin and an invitation to sit and share some bread from Panera’s (oh God, yum, if he wasn’t stupid for Archie _already_ , the Panera’s would _definitely_ do it) and he wasn’t going to look a gift horse in the mouth, so of course he sat and shared. Archie didn’t acknowledge that anything had happened, though everyone around them was shifting restlessly and trading looks; apparently they had heard about it, somehow. Maybe they didn’t know the specifics, but whatever, they definitely knew something went down between Cook and Archie, and Archie was deliberately ignoring it. But, whatever, Cook was going to fix it. Really, he was!

“So, look. I’m sorry. And I want to make it up to you. So, um, wanna hang out today? After school?” Cook shoved his hands into his pockets and smiled winningly at Archie, who looked at him skeptically. “We could go eat at that cool burger place? I hear it has really good shakes.”

Archie’s frown deepened. “I don’t know Cook, this sounds suspiciously like a date,” he said warily, but his voice wasn’t upset or mad or anything, so Cook called that a win. He immediately put on his best puppy-dog eyes.

“Aw, come on Arch! It’s not gonna be a date, just two friends having some food. I’ll even let you pay for your food,” he teased, and then clasped his hands together in front of him. Archie laughed a little and pushed his hands down and away.

“Alright, alright. It’s _not_ a date, okay?” He waggled a finger in Cook’s face, but Cook was too happy to care.

It was close enough to a date, anyhow, and it let Cook launch his third phase of ‘Wooing David Archuleta’ (which was way harder than he originally planned, Christ): flirting.

Cook hadn’t charmed or wooed Archie at all, not enough, not enough to be considered _boyfriend_ material, at least. If the person asking you out doesn’t even act kind of romantic around you, why would you even consider going out with them in the first place? Yeah, Cook realized this way too late, but he needed to flirt, like, a lot more.

It started small, of course, but he took Archie out every day after school, even on the days he had choir practice. He’d just wait outside, listening to the soar of voices, and try to pick out which one was Archie’s. He’d heard the boy singing a few times, under his breath, or quietly as he daydreamed, but that was a lot different then trying to pick his voice out in a crush of sound. They’d go play video games at Cook’s house, or babysit the younger kid’s at the Archuleta’s (which, “Gosh Cook, you don’t have to be so nice to them,” Archie said, a little embarrassed as Cook collapsed, wheezing after his fifth ‘horsey ride’ with Amber. The girl squealed and skipped around Cook, yelling ‘giddy up! giddy up!’ and galloping into the kitchen. “It’s fine Arch, I just, jeez, I need to get into shape I guess!” Archie had just shaken his head, followed Amber into the kitchen and gotten him a cold drink, bless that kid) or sometimes they’d even see a movie, where Cook would lean over and whisper disparaging remarks about the film or the other patrons, and Archie would blush and laugh and sometimes their hands would touch when reaching for the popcorn, and it felt like a real date, which was _awesome_. He tried to amp up the innuendo, though not enough to scare or intimidate the younger boy, just enough to make him turn red and gasp a little, and he started to touch Archie a lot more. He found this part of the seduction the most enjoyable, hooking his arm around Archie’s shoulders, or putting his hand on the base of the boy’s neck, or simply grabbing him into a bear hug, full body, and not letting go until Archie squeezed him back.

Finally, _finally_ , Cook felt confidant again. And - it was Valentine’s day. Seriously, Archie _had_ to say yes, if for nothing else, to throw a bone to the poor pathetic person who was asking him out on February fourteenth, that momentous occasion where couples go all weird and frantic, and young lovers get gooey eyed and stupid around each other.

Cook didn’t plan anything major. He just enjoyed the day with his friends, laughing at the stupid cards passed around, and catcalling as couples hooked up or renewed their relationships, or exchanged stupid stuffed bears. It was fun - the entire school was in a frenzy, hopped up on adrenaline and hope and lust and _candy_ , don’t forget the candy. And it was especially hilarious when Carly opened up her locker to find, not only a singing bear clutching a tube full of skittles (her favorite candy), but also a wilted balloon in the shape of a red heart, and a messy card that spouted glitter when she opened it. All of it from ‘anonymous’ of course. (“Congratulations dude!” Neal announced, “Cook is no longer the biggest pansy in this school!” Michael had turned a truly unhealthy shade of red and snapped, “Shut up Tiemann! And just wait - the day isn’t over yet! Lover boy probably has a couple tricks up his sleeve.” He’d knocked his elbow against Cook’s ribs, who had merely shrugged and smiled.)

Archie had gotten quite a few “Be My Valentine!”s from girls in his grade, and one lazy “You’re Neat” candy heart from a guy called Jason in eleventh grade who was also in the choir (and yeah, Cook may have given him the evil eye, because even though it was a fairly innocent candy heart, it was still a candy heart! On Valentine’s day!). He’d turned all sorts of pinks and whites, and thanked everyone profusely, all while gently letting them know he’d be going stag this Valentine’s day. Archie had even slipped Cook a candy bar with a post-it note on it that simply said “:) Don’t eat it in class!” and Cook smiled, and totally ate it in class.

It wasn’t until after the day was done, and Cook had driven Archie home (he’d just gotten a car and damn, it was awesome, offering everyone rides, being able to go places by himself, seriously), loitering outside of his home. Cook rubbed the back of his neck and then turned to the younger boy, who was humming whatever had been on the radio.

“So,” Cook started, and grinned widely when Archie looked over at him. The boy’s eyes were bright and playful, and so warm and inviting, and Cook felt that heat flush through his body. All he wanted to do was press Archie against the seats and kiss him breathless, but instead he bit his lip to stop himself and tilted his head as cockily as he could manage. “Third time’s the charm?” He asked, only a little nervous this time. His fingers brushed up against Archie’s neck gently, reverently, and he knew his face must look pretty silly, all wanting and hopeful.

Archie didn’t go all darkside on him this time, which was a really good sign. He looked down and colored a little, then pulled away from Cook’s hand. “Sorry Cook, not this time,” he said, and got out of the car. He didn’t shut it right away though, and leaned back in. “But, um, you should never really give up hope, at least, um, not on something you really want.” Archie had turned a fascinating pink color, slammed the car door shut, and darted into his house.

Cook idled there in front of Archie’s house for a long while, breathless. Well, _shit!_

 

A few weeks later, and Cook couldn’t believe he was actually doing this, but, that’s love for you. (And holy shit, when the fuck did it become _love_ and not like, ‘There’s this really cool kid, Archie, and wow, I want to kiss him until all he can say is my name, and I want to spend all Saturday watching movies with him, just so I can hear his breathy laugh and-’ oh, God, he was fucked, so fucked.) He shouldered the boom box awkwardly and hurled a stick (because the Archuleta’s front lawn was freakishly devoid of pebbles, and he hadn’t thought to bring any of his own, because seriously, who didn’t have pebbles in their yard?) in the general direction of Archie’s bedroom on the second floor. It hit the window with a loud _’thwack!’_ and Cook mentally cheered, and thanked baseball practice for that one.

The window opened pretty quickly. “Cook? What are you- Oh my gosh.” Cook hit play on the boom box and held it high above his head, feeling so fucking _stupid_ , and Christ, Neal and Andy and Michael were going to find out about this, and they were going to mock him for the rest of his entire life. But -

REO Speedwagon poured from the speaker’s, and Cook could see Archie’s jaw actually dropping in shock as the saccharine-sweet and cheesy lyrics were crooned out. _”You’re a candle in the window on a cold October’s night,”_ he mouthed along, and it was fucking loud, ugh, REO was not made to blast at this decibel, at all.

“Cook! What are you _doing?_ ” Archie yelled down at him. Cook squinted up at him.

“I’m proving myself to you!” He shouted back.

“ _What?_ Stop it! Oh my gosh, _Cook!_ You’re scaring the cats!”

“Not until you go out with me!”

“No!”

“David! Just go outside, and _make him stop!_ ” Someone else shrieked and, oops, that sounded like Claudia. Cook tilted his face up to Archie again, and saw the window closing. He waited, still holding the stereo, until the front door opened and Archie stomped over to him.

The first thing Cook noticed was that Archie slept in these _adorable_ striped pajamas, that were actually a little big for him, so the sleeves hung over his hands, and the shirt slipped sideways a bit to flash Cook a little clavicle (which had never been hot before, and was now, somehow, _unbearably arousing_ ). The second thing Cook noticed was the pinched, sleepy look on Archie’s face. It was also pretty cute. Not as cute as the pajamas, but still cute enough to make Cook grin and twist the volume knob down to an acceptable measure.

“Why are you here?” Archie asked, once he was close enough. He looked tired and annoyed, but not really annoyed at Cook, per se, just annoyed at the situation caused by Cook.

“I told you: I’m here to prove myself to you. Nothing else worked and I figured, hey it works in the movies. Also, maybe if I make myself look like an idiot, you’ll somehow magically want to date me. Also, it’s kind of romantic?” Cook grinned at him, setting the boom box down. He shrugged his shoulders sheepishly - he would try anything, _anything_ to get this boy to even _think_ about dating him, seriously. Archie’s face melted, no longer in that pinched irritation, but fading into it’s usual sweetness. He smiled back, if a little dimly.

“Cook I told you -”

“But why?” Cook grabbed at Archie’s hand, boldly. He interlaced their fingers and brought it to his mouth, kissing the back of Archie’s hand. He looked up, carefully, noting the wide, shocked eyes and slightly parted mouth. He kissed it again, and saw Archie’s eyes flutter close, and his throat work soundlessly. “Why, Archie?”

“I’m just a freshman,” Archie said slowly, and Jesus, Cook was afraid of this, “and you’re a senior.” He opened his eyes, which looked guarded and cautious. “And it’s not - it’s not about the age difference or anything, I don’t care that much, but - you’re going to go away. And I’m going to be stuck here. And you’ll meet so many people who are like, way more interesting and funny than me, and smarter and more worldly, and I don’t want to just have a two month relationship, okay? I don’t want to be your last high school romance, or whatever. Okay? I really like you Cook,” and Archie sounded _so sad_ , so sad saying that last bit.

Cook couldn’t stand it. He tugged Archie close and dropped his hand so he could frame the boy’s face in his palms. “Archie, I swear, it’s not gonna be like that,” he said softly, staring into his eyes. “I swear to you. You don’t even know - I’m so _stupid_ about you. I think about you constantly. And I don’t want to break your heart, okay? Because it’d be like, it’d be like breaking my own heart.” Cook searched the younger boy’s face frantically - that was probably the most romantic thing he’d ever said in his life, and what if Archie hated it, or started laughing? Then he just gave up on the whole ‘talking’ thing and leaned in to kiss him, hard and desperate and wanting, trying to infuse all his wild emotions into that simple liplock, stealing the breath right out of Archie.

Archie made a soft sound, and Cook pulled off immediately, his heart pounding, but Archie just grabbed him and tugged him back, licking into his mouth and looping his arms around Cook’s neck, his little gasps and pants doing nothing to slow the kiss. Cook groaned and clutched at him, his hands sliding up the back of Archie’s pajama top, breaking off the kiss to hold Archie tight, _tight_ against his chest, and hug him close, for a long, long while.

The fourth time Cook asked David Archuleta on a date he said yes.

And the fifth time.  
And the sixth time.  
And the seventh time.  
And the eighth time.  
And the ninth time.  
And the tenth time...


End file.
